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A simple story, well executed with a very memorable, pastel style.

One of the ultimate pieces on simple life in pastoral Japan which is not a Ghibli film. Doesn't have nearly the emotional throughline to make it a hugely memorable story but it's got its heart along with some fun animation. Characters have strong designs and do really feel like children - though the adult characters are purely there as archetypical plot devices. The animation is a showcase of really great naturalistic character movement, really distinguishing the style. The only technical fault I saw was some of the editing felt a bit jarring.

A decent iyashikei story ... which will not surprise you in the least; it's good healing.

The Boy and the Heron is most explicitly an attempt to rekindle the flame of Spirited Away, but in a more artistic and whimsical form. Many of the character designs and imagery are very similar, as is the dream-like quality of the story. With a little of Princess Mononoke and The Wind Rises mixed in, it's a story that borrows heavily and straddles the fantastical and the realistic in a way that's not quite as effective as Miyazaki's other films but still delivers emotional high points.

What caught my attention most during viewing was the way this film was edited. Ghibli's filmography is very well known ... for its serene, beautifully animated moments of quiet contemplation as much as its wonderfully put-together action. Most of the time, melding these scenes together follows a very traditional format of scene structure and continuity. In The Boy and the Heron though, there are very deliberate hard cuts to new environments. Going from extremely detailed scenes of climbing up rubble to a new scene with no establishing shot is very deliberate, an attempt to evoke the dream-like quality of the fantastical world. I hesitate to say it's effective though, and in general makes the story all the more disjointed.

Some have observed that this story feels very much like short stories wedged together with common elements, but that's hardly unique among Japanese films and even this studio. However, comparing this version of that idea to, say, My Neighbor Totoro, there is a distinct lack of cohesion in the narrative which I think springs from the characters. There's far too much acceptance of the internal logic of the story which in general makes it all less fantastical. Our characters are never astounded by the way things are and their character traits don't tie that much into the world. Nor do their stories have long arcs, we just get very sudden character beats which are high on emotion but less on feeling. The plot just kind of "happens" rather than follows a firm arc. And often a lot of stuff just doesn't happen because there's an interruption to the natural story flow.

All that being said, I think this film is still a worthwhile exploration of its core themes. The world is very intriguing, even if it strays more towards a "kid-oriented" film than any Ghibli movie since Ponyo. (I wouldn't say it's kid-friendly for one scene in particular, but then again I was watching a lot of Ghibli films very young.) The emotions it is able to hit, it hits hard. Character acting is up to its usual standard, the comedy hits pretty well, of course the environmental art is remarkable. It does well in pulling you in for the ride and it is certainly never boring. The slow setup at the start of the movie really does build to something worthwhile, even if some of the "realistic" details feel a bit like filler rather than fleshing out the conflict of the world.

The Boy and the Heron straddles the line between a movie where it's best to not think about it too much and one that's perhaps overly intellectual. It has more in common with avant garde film than what has come to expect from this director and studio, while also being less focused on clear, adult themes. There's a magic to it and plenty of satisfaction from following the story, just with not a lot of energy behind it to truly take flight. Enjoy the bizarre, be surprised, and take what you will from its fantastic portrayal of the abstract.

"Just who the hell is Tada Banri anyways?"

While Golden Time unfortunately doesn't answer that question adequately to justify the undue attention paid to this character, the core of that message winds up tying an uneven but charming romance story together.

The major pitch of Golden Time by Western anime fans is that it's set in college, not high school. This substantially changes very little. There's very little truck given to college life; it largely revolves around after school clubs and extracurricular activities. I've seen high school shows where people have to get part-time jobs (Maid-sama, for example) and others where drinking is involved at some level. ... Aside form a fairly well-developed vision of an urban Tokyo, there's very little unique about the setting of the story.

What kept me going through the whole thing was the plot. Drawing on anime weirdness that dips in and out of the story to give it a very unique flow, it's one of these shows that shocks you every few episodes. Sometimes this is emotional, other times situational, but either way it does a good job breaking up the expected flows of a romance anime. Though there are many, MANY times when contrived situations put a damper on the story, they almost always serve to ADVANCE the story which is incredibly rare for the romance genre. There is no infinitely static situation and I appreciate that. The often times absurd melodrama (neither word used as a pejorative) accentuates some rather genuine themes and character interactions.

Characters on the whole are a bit of a mixed bag. The central six of the main cast aren't tied together particularly well, with the story largely just deciding they are friends because there's need of a friend group. A lot of the potential of these characters - well set up early on - gets squandered in the narrative circumstances and often sidelined for far too many episodes to further complicate the love triangle. I will say that I did ultimately find these characters endearing and appreciated their contributions to the finale of the show, but every single one had some genuinely infuriating moments. I don't think anyone comes away from this show not at least annoyed by the main girl, Kaga Kouko. Whether or not you're able to forgive her faults - which are genuine, not just quirky inclusions the author things are normal and okay - there's an undeniable edge to her satisfaction that makes the characters more complex (for better or worse) than an average romance anime.

I was fairly middling on this show until the final five episodes or so. There were some genuinely solid ones before that and I did care about the conclusions of the characters, but the final stretch makes it almost a different show - much to the better in my opinion. The reason I qualify my recommendation is that I can easily see people checking out much earlier than I did. This is a show to scream at the characters through the screen to - then come around and feel their emotions. How much mileage that gives you will depend on the type of person you are.

Golden Time is at times fun, at times infuriating, and has some good storytelling if not the most well-rounded characters. It will definitely provide you something different and unique among realistic romance anime. I would recommend Nana (which this show has a major, if inaccurate, reference to that factors heavily into the plot) if you enjoy the contemplative and adult angle of this story with substantially better character writing. But this was fun!

It is undeniable that Pluto is a well-produced and thought-provoking story with a strong vision. However, the magnitude that the show builds up is not properly fulfilled by a wholly satisfying resolution. The journey was fun to watch and scratches a highbrow itch that people who love Blade Runner will enjoy; I just wish it actually closed the narrative loops more effectively.

The structure of Pluto will hardly be unfamiliar to fans of the murder mystery, which is what the majority of the runtime is concerned with. I go as far as to call it "Hard Boiler Plate" as the patterns of the episodes become pretty ... obvious after a while. The stakes get steadily ramped up to a global scale which gives it the proper anime bombast and plenty of varied locales you're unlikely to see in most shows like this. While it attempts to thread the tension into this story, I hesitate to call this a "thriller." The pace is far slower and the storytelling more detached from scene to scene, allowing for a lot of familiarization with locations and relationships.

One of the most difficult parts of Pluto's storytelling is its method of dealing with flashback scenes. There is no clear visual transition from "present" to "past" events, which makes things feel jarring. This attempt to replicate the non-linear structure of some mystery stories comes off mostly as unsuccessful in large part because it rarely seems like we're being shown anything all that important that wouldn't have been better left to the reader's/viewer's imagination. I couldn't help comparing a lot of the events of the 39th Central Asian War to Full Metal Alchemist's own depictions of wartime cruelty and there's no doubt - FMA did it better (both versions).

Even when we're demonstrated that the characters have some significant history together, it never appears to weigh much on their actions. In fact at several points in the story it seems the characters are in ignorance of those connections until the plot needs another beat to move it forwards. It felt there should have been a lot more going on in the story in terms of the struggles of the main cast to give them more ample reason to fight and defend what they love. Two of the characters have basically the same motivation, which all ties back to the theming that runs through this whole series.

Apparent from nearly the first scene is the question of "What makes us human?" and "How close can artificial life be to humanity?" This is an overriding social tension through the whole story, as robots have rights and live amongst humans. In some ways this is explored to interesting conclusions, but for a lot of the rest of it it's just... There. Those themes certainly make you think, but do they actually add anything to the narrative? In my opinion, not spending a lot of time pontificating on these more interesting questions serves to make the story shallower rather than deep. It also feeds into many character decisions, which seemingly have little to do with the logic of the world and more about symbolism.

Symbolism and parallels - especially to mythology - are hard to do right without coming off as hokey. The original mangaka had some constraints as he was trying to recontextualize the story of Astro Boy (as an aside, I know nothing about Astro Boy beyond the cliffnotes and I don't think it's necessary to enjoy the story) but I can't find a lot of the attempts anything but hamfisted. The title itself is dropped in the series very early on and you get a completely false impression of what it means - until it does actually mean what you think it does, sort of? And the story's reconciliation feels not very earned because of the disconnection between its different pieces.

Several times, I just said "What?" to the screen at some of the logic. This was both of the world with its strangely adapted robots and at points in the story which never got a decent resolution. To me, little about the villains' plans made all that much sense given the world this was set in. I especially disliked the cockroaches - what was that even about?

The failures of the grander narrative does not mean you will not enjoy this. As mentioned, the artistic quality is wonderful. It's presented as a prestige series and mostly lives up to that, if perhaps not always with the best direction or cinematography that can be found in animation or live action. The world is pretty well-realized on screen and the animators set a wonderful standard for spectacle in a highly detailed anime like this. I watched it dubbed, which was very good, if not quite standout. Episode to episode I was excited, but unlike the best mysteries or thrillers I wasn't super excited to watch the next episode. It was just kind of pleasant, which I don't think is what people will expect from a show made like this.

Pluto stands on its own two feet as a production and shoots for the moon but misses. If you're into it and its ideas, you will definitely have a very good time and may even love it. For those looking for something very meaty and thrilling though, I don't think this has the necessary flesh to chew on.

I maintain that probably the best part of the original Shirobako was its very realistic plotting and pacing. The way that the show gradually expands its cast of characters and scenario, sometimes with slightly dead-end plots, really drives the "workplace drama" aspect of the scenario very well and sets it apart from other aspirational stories. The film goes for a very basic plot and focuses on reacquainting us with all the old characters, which while necessary to some degree does undersell the effort that the original communicated so well. That doesn't keep it from being a fun watch though.

The oddest thing about this movie is ... its approach to talking about the broader industry. In the far off year of 2019, the beginning of the film lets us know that fewer anime are being produced. However, this is a pretty odd idea that not only contradicts the realistic setting of the Shirobako universe but also never comes up again except as a backdrop for the troubles of the central studio. Of course this film launched in the middle of COVID-19, which put an ironic wrench in production schedules, but also resulted in more anime being produced than ever before. The framing, therefore, will always feel extremely odd.

All that aside, the film drip-feeds the reintroduction of most of the cast from the original show. Some in more or less meaningful ways, showing how many have moved up in the world to various degrees. Of course it culminates in "getting the band back together", which serves as the plot's overall structure. This facilitates some expansion on characters, getting to see a few new sides of them, as well as retreads of old character scenarios. I did enjoy some of this, having watched the show a long time ago, yet at times it felt more like a tribute to the series rather than an expansion. Likewise the few subplots didn't really do much to really make the situation more meaningful, which the show had the luxury to do.

One thing that stands out in its absence from this movie - both in narrative and visual design - is the recognition of the increasing role digital integration has played in the latter half of the 2010s. At one point it's mentioned that the CGI looks too digital, though the term "compositing" never comes up. This vital new aspect of production (used to notable effect by studios like Ufotable and KyoAni) is something that P. A. Works has used well in the past. Despite its cinematic effect though, notable use of it is nowhere to be seen in Shirobako: The Movie. The film looks almost identical to an episode of the original series, with perhaps some better realized background art as the only notable difference. Leaving out these bits of production was a missed opportunity in all departments.

The film is a lot sillier too. There's musical sequences, a whole choreographed fight, slipping of the fictional characters into the thoughts of the main character, and even some very cartoony actions from otherwise semi-realistic people. These pieces do mostly land. At the same time, so does the more grounded comedy. I wish it stuck more to one side or the other, only punctuating the extreme like the famous Director scene from the original show. Overall it feels a bit unbalanced and lacks (ironically) a strong directorial spirit. Though that's not super uncommon from this studio.

I still had a ton of fun getting to know the characters of Shirobako again. Character acting, script, and delivery were still great fun just as they were from all those years ago. I wish it had some deeper things to say about creativity and industry at this point, though a lot of that was definitely dried up from the series. P. A. Works being in its unique position of almost solely creating anime originals, I would have expected a bit more expansion on things like production committees and merchandising which they have a direct perspective on. My hope is that if they find the creative energy to do a Shirobako Season 2, it will be as much a critical look at the industry as a celebration of it.

For now, Shirobako Movie is a fun return to form, if little else.

Connection and memory. These are the core attributes of a networked society, and of the prescient Serial Experiments Lain. Though very much of its era and purposefully abstracted, it carries an emotional weight no matter the era you view it in.

As an avant-garde horror show, Serial Experiments Lain is not something that's favorable to judge on standard metrics for a well-rounded narrative. The plot is relatively thin on the ground, but it never for a moment makes you think that is the most important. The story is about the feel of the world, the implications of the events, and what is felt by yourself and ... the characters alike. It's more grounded than most avant-garde art pieces and the narrative reveals are satisfying, just don't expect a typical format of "event, reaction, character reflection". Some other reviews call this "non linear", though I think "non sequential" is a better term. The sequences don't tend to wrap up in and of themselves, they always build towards heightened emotions rather than new story beats.

Serial Experiments Lain holds the carrot just out of reach for its entire runtime, very effectively guiding the curious viewer down a deep hole of discovery. Explanations don't really start appearing until Episode 7, which was when my personal tolerance for the pure abstract was starting to run thin. Even then, you simply must accept that the logic is beyond standard comprehension. You are forced to confront the surreality head-on, not searching for answers to the parts that are illogical but to the parts that make very clear sense. Throwing out the abstractions is not the point, they are truly necessary for the narrative power of the story.

However, when it attempts to touch upon traditional storybeats, it does have some trouble really making those mean something. For example, the character Myu-Myu seems to have some semblance of an arc going on and is given a large amount of screentime as a side character, but it never actually adds up to anything. Along with a certain amount of repetition of certain elements - such as Lain's endless blank stares at things that never show us much new about her character - it really shows that this show was restricted in one way or another. As much as the emotional resonance comes through, there was clearly a great many challenges in production.

One of the most fascinating parts about watching Serial Experiments Lain is how it gives even a novice viewer incite into how anime is made, whether they're looking for it or not. To be frank, this show is JANKY. There's so many clear animation issues and reuses that it's clear that Triangle Staff was a no-name studio. At the same time, the show uses this to its advantage. You can hear the room of the voice actors. Liberal use of filters make you question whether or not something is actually a mistake or a cue to the existential dread lingering at the edge. Blank space - like the dead silent audio bed and the colorfully dancing shadows against a sea of white - is one of the most unsettling things about the whole show. Many of the repeated elements are absolutely intentional and amplify the concept of recursion as part of the narrative. It definitely wears aspects of the digital age on its sleeve, even if it still exists in the space between the move from analog to digital.

It's impossible to get the most out of the show without understanding the time and place that it was made in. Only at the very cusp of the ubiquity of the World Wide Web, the story's "Wired" envisions a world of pre-internet thought about the basis of a global network. Untamed visions of connection without standardization, rapidly changing and evolving for everybody, not just technology people. This vision of a future which seemed plausible in a twisted way singled out the cyberpunk vision of Serial Experiments Lain next to Ghost in the Shell and The Matrix which sandwich it. In its focus on the idea of connection, Lain turned out to be the one with more relevance to active life than either of the other two.

More than its vision of the future though, the series also is a view of the late 1990s. Clothing, music, grungy aesthetics, the place of social dynamics about to be shaken up by the ever-present surroundings of technology. That makes it a time capsule, despite being sci-fi. It is inescapably of a time period which this reviewer grew up in and therefore cannot help see a world through young eyes like Lain's. That doesn't necessarily make it nostalgic, but it adds a certain potency to the world the creators communicated.

What this anime does perfectly is in creating an atmosphere. I really cannot fault the directorial vision, even as its production needs sometimes show to readily. They made an immense amount out of what they had and I loved it. What it doesn't do great with is giving sufficient depth to all the concerns and subjects it brings up. There's so many small crises in the story about what the eroding layer between the digital and physical world means, yet only about two major topics get explored in much depth. So much more could have been said about the subjects it really seemed to understand from its brief glimpses - including memes, the way forums change the nature of discussion, how technology could affect education, etc.

What does this recommendation come down to? If you want to experience something truly unique that will give you an appreciation for the abstract without overwhelming your every waking thought, Serial Experiments Lain is a story with a satisfying arc and conclusion amongst the avant-garde. I couldn't tear my attention away from it, though I wouldn't necessarily call it "suspenseful" as other shows are. I can completely understand why others call this a masterpiece, but too much potential slips through the gaps for me to recommend it like that. It is a vision I can whole-heartedly recommend to any sort of Japanese horror fan in addition to existential sci-fi lovers alike. Having it in my anime vocabulary will definitely help me look deeper at other shows in the same vain.

Thrillers are a genre defined by creating impossible situations, but laying the clues for the viewers to find how the characters can escape them. It is one of the most difficult plots to pull off successfully, even more difficult to do while raising stakes and attempting not to descend into convoluted thought processes. Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor manages to pull off a very mature and analytical take on the thriller plot which may feel familiar to fans of shonen action series, but unlike most of those series the set-ups have huge consequences and payoffs.

Kaiji is sometimes identified as the "anti Yu-Gi-Oh" for its overriding themes of ... valuing psychology over believing in victory. There are a lot of similarities between the two, especially of Kaiji and the original manga, far more than the anime. However, while at first Kaiji seems to criticize trusting others as a core value of its world, it does eventually come around to a similar place as Yu-Gi-Oh. The titular hero suffers through some of the most heart-wrenching scenarios imaginable to escape an endless cycle of suffering, but he actually does form a stronger worldview for it. The conflicts that he has to go through in order to survive are definitely the most engaging part of the story.

Every game played in this story contains very simple rules, but underlying complex strategies. The point is to test both the characters and the reader to work through all possible scenarios before making assumptions about what others will do. Though conceptually some of the games are quite silly, they all serve as powerful allegories for the human condition, which becomes more and more apparent when characters fail. Rather explicitly, these are allegories on society at large, a system that both menaces the characters and gives them an opportunity to rise above.

The presentation of all this remained gripping from start to end, though it got weaker during the last bunch of episodes. I finished this show in three days because I absolutely had to know what happened next and there were so few breakpoints. Kaiji is extremely bingeable, though that comes with some caveats about the presentation. While it doesn't look bad (despite many's repulsion to the character designs) it is slow moving with a lot of intermittent flashbacks and sometimes glaring animation omissions. There started to be a certain inconsistency with how well each of the new "tricks" were disguised towards the end, which may be more of a directorial issue.

It likely suffers from the need to be a 24 episode show. If made today, it likely would benefit from being more like 18 episodes with some of the repetition of rules, emotional monologues, and imagery swapped out. Nothing was ever dull, some of that elongated tension was definitely needed, but I could never shake the idea that the story would be improved if a bit more concise rather than being a rather faithful adaptation of a manga which has its own particular flow.

Some of the things that happen to characters in this show are definitely on the spectrum of "body horror", but they are always done in a rather muted style. Spurts of blood help cover up gore, for the most part. Reaching more for brutality may have also been a boon for this type of unrelentingly cruel story. However, even with the rather dour ending note of this first half, the show ultimately does feel inspiring. It gives a message that everything happens for a reason, that nobody's life is without value, and knowing your enemy helps you realize how everybody is ultimately human. It's bleak, yet never hopeless. That's something that a lot of dark thrillers ultimately share.

The show is a delightful death game and character study that will leave you craving more - and possibly leave you lying awake at night thinking about the fragility of the human spirit. It's a pointed look at the world's destitute ruffians and what is promised for us in the adult world. I think it's a brilliant example of the formula and a truly excellent, allegorical story. I need a break after experiencing it, but I await the desperate fight of Season 2.

ZAWA ZAWA ZAWA

One step forward, just like the prospective mountain climbers that make up the troupe of Yama no Susume. Though there was a distinct lack of a defined plot compared to the last season, the runtime was better spent on very pointed character moments which had a real purpose to gluing the narrative together.

By far the best aspect of this season was the contrast between Aoi and Honoka, who are both different types of introverts. This show has been praised for its treatment of that personality type, and this season you begin to see exactly how they react to different situations. Getting to know Honoka - ... though she may seem distant - is a real delight and introduces a new side of the "making memories" mission of this story. Her particular obsessions make the dynamics of some of the characters feel fresh again and show off a side of introversion that's usually played for laughs in a very good light.

In general this season was far more aimless than the other two parts. In fact it wouldn't be wrong to say that the story took a rather significant downturn, but the moments it facilitates are worth breaking the team off into individual pieces for. Kaede is mostly written out of most of the major events, though it seems to be more of a consequence of her own actions rather than the writer needing to get her out of the way. In that way, the show strikes a rather naturalistic tone which honestly feels a bit refreshing. The emotional climaxes continue to be rather understated yet still carry a certain power with them which goes with the continued focus on realistic scenery.

Compared to the prior season, there does seem to be a decrease in scale and splendor in season 3. Many of the landscapes feel a bit condensed, though that does seemed to have allowed for a greater focus on detail. Seeing all of the named landmarks that the group encounters on their path and derive some kind of meaning from them is worth focusing in a bit more. That does mean it's less about scenery splendor, though that still exists.

On paper I think Yama no Susume Season 3 is a bit of a downgrade from Season 2, but I overall had a better time. It flowed nicer, even with some big moments of seeming meaninglessness. It also didn't leave off on a damp note like the previous season. Overall, it instilled me with more confidence to keep watching, and happy that there is a longer term goal in mind.

The second season of Yama no Susume is a very interesting study in the benefits of extra run-time per episode. Where Season 1 was extremely concise and drifted along to individual subjects, Season 2 still very much feels like the same show but with extended deviation into more introspection. In fact these episodes actually feel more like they are full-length, both to their advantage and detriment.

Outdoorsmanship is a very broad hobby and the focus on mountain climbing and its place within the lives of the small crew continues to be rather interesting. The show touches upon most aspects, though at its core it is about ... character growth and development among each other. In this way, the show is much more a Slice of Life than an Iyashikei as its label suggests. There is a melding of the two experiences, but it's the difference between Non Non Byori and Dagashi Kashi - both are about rustic life but the former puts more emphasis on character conflict with lasting consequences. Yama no Susume uses its mountain metaphor as a symbol for growth, and that it does rather effectively.

When it's leaning hard into its "free, youthful spirit", the show kind of loses its way a bit. With the expansion of plotlines came a lot of hit or miss mini-stories that didn't really seem to do much for the plot. Kokona's dedicated episode is cute and all, but I kind of wish we actually learned something new about her to have a dedicated focus. As it is, most of the interesting stuff continues to be driven solely by Aoi, which is more than enough to provide a satisfying arc. It's just a little disappointing that it couldn't rise beyond that, especially when the episodes felt full-length.

For those that hooked onto the first season for its wonderful background art, this season ups its game substantially and pulls in some great animation on top of that. Episode 17 features the talents of Ryouma Ebata going absolutely ham on a bouncy style, which I loved. Seeing places in Japan which I have personally only experienced through vlogs really made the whole series feel like a portrait of a particular time and place. That's rare for anime to do and is definitely worth commending, especially when it's all storyboarded so well. They make everything feel as vast as it is, which is difficult to do in 2D.

This season was still enjoyable, but dragged down by extra narrative weight that's a little cumbersome to carry. Perhaps my primary reason for putting a "mixed feelings" tag on this is due to the last episode, which like many anime I've seen provides a rather unnecessary epilogue that sort of sours the experience of catching up on anything.

My hope to future seasons is that they will take their extra runtime to more confidentially embrace their dramatic aspects and really allow the characters other than Aoi to go places.

Made in Abyss is about the infinite vastness of the universe and the small place of humans within it. That's not the literal premise - it's a fantasy show about a hole in the ground - but everything derives from that basic idea. The way it brings to life a world based on people confronting their own small place in a vast mystery of life rivals the epic fantasy greats like Fullmetal Alchemist, Wheel of Time, and Discworld. It's unrivaled as a piece of media with mystery at its core.

The world of Made in Abyss comes to life through the little details. Story is subordinate ... to giving life to every single aspect of the setting. From social strata of those living above the Abyss, to the legends associated with the major players, to its technology, to the philosophy of a society which is driven to conquer the unknown. The original mangaka did their work and the team at Kinema Citrus did absolute marvels in bringing a vision of that world to life through some of the most unique and varied animation ever to grace television. You can tell they studied the likes of Studio Ghibli heavily in their depictions of this multi-faceted world.

As a piece of television, this show is slow going. There are not major events that happen in every episode and moments often get extended well beyond where a more action-based show might go. This is a directorial masterstroke. Much of the show - from its very beginning - is about building up a creeping dread that makes each revelation hit with incredible impact. Whether or not the character's emotions are translated off the screen, it's nearly impossible to come away from this show not having felt impacted. The payoffs in this show are well worth every second, including the double-length finale which in itself felt like a standalone feature.

One's tolerance for that build-up will entirely determine whether or not they think this show is boring or as great - as I feel. There are definite issues with the way some conflicts are initiated and resolved, some tonal inconsistencies lurking at the edges of strong stories. However, both the predictable and unpredictable enhance this show in different ways. It really knows how to play on its strengths which is enhanced by the sheer fact that it's so *different* than most other anime. Nothing compares to its tone, and few compare to its deserved reverence for cruel, unkempt nature.

Appreciating Made In Abyss can be done on many levels. Its soundtrack alone is one for the ages, evoking the feel of PlayStation 2-era classics without ever being overly orchestral. Some of the storyboarding rivals the very best on TV or film. Creature designs give H. R. Giger a run for his money. In all, it's a production of immense merit and passion, supporting a story that truly deserves it. There are criticisms to leverage against it, but as a whole, Made In Abyss is something that will stay with me forever.

Additional Note: I watched the dub, which is fine. It's nowhere near great, but it's serviceable if you would rather appreciate the world a bit more than read which I think is a good trade-off.